


Closer

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, Multi, Vacations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 11:33:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11577234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: "It was strange to him, hearing the word former precede the title of President. As much as he'd loved serving his country and acting for the people, he hoped now those strings weren't attached him any longer, that he'd be brought ever closer to his beautifully maturing children, too."*RE-POST/MINOR EDITING





	Closer

**Closer**

 

 

“This is lovely,” Michelle said emphatically, casting a sideways glance at her husband from the balcony just off their room on a resort in St Lucia. He'd ordered room service while she was still asleep, situated the dishes of food atop the balcony table canopied by way of a large umbrella.

 

 

“I'm glad you think so,” Barack said with a half smile. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

 

 

They'd discussed extensively the idea of taking a much needed vacation once his presidency came to an end, but when she hadn't offered up any concrete destinations he'd taken it upon himself to plan most of it. In the beginning stages of devising, he'd toyed with the idea of leaving the girls under the watchful eye of Michelle's mother in Washington, but decided against it. They'd grown up alongside their parents after one of them had thrust himself full force into grand scale politics and made them both proud in how they'd handled themselves the duration of those eight years. In the end, he'd come to the conclusion they deserved the reward too, and so had made it a family affair.

 

 

“Where exactly have our children gotten to?” his wife asked thickly as she swallowed a forkful of pineapple, bringing coffee cup to her lips and sipping from its edge in effort to help wash it down.

 

 

“Agents took them down to the pool,” he told her, and she nodded. “They should be back soon.” His gaze automatically cast downward as he peered through the slats in the balcony's rails, trying and failing to make out his daughters among the sea of dots below as they bobbed leisurely in the outdoor pool.

 

 

“Have you thought about what it is you want to do after we finally get back?” Tone tentative, Michelle locked her gaze on the side of his face.

 

 

“Not at length, no,” he said, sighing. “I'd rather not do so right now, either.” They rarely fought. If they did, it was better described as impassioned disagreeing. Voices didn't raise more than a few octaves, limbs were not waved in front of each other, objects were not thrown, words and phrases were what they were: without hidden messages or undertones, free of malice or intention to wound.

 

 

“Okay,” she said, raising her hands from their position in her lap and showing them to him as a gesture of surrender. “Just asking.”

 

 

“Whenever I know, you will.” Reaching for one of her hands before she replaced them under the table, he caught it quickly and laced their fingers. The wedding ring on her middle finger still glinted just as brightly as it had done the day he'd situated it there, rays of Caribbean sun hitting it in all the right places and adding to its glamour.

 

 

“I should hope so.”

 

 

Though she'd been the one to bring it up, she didn't entirely blame him for not wanting to discuss it. The last few weeks leading up to his departure may well have been the most draining of his entire reign. He'd gone through the trouble of meticulously planning this luxurious getaway, and he deserved to revel in its effects even more so than any of them. There were still three glorious weeks left until they chartered a private plane back to Washington and the duties of what would become their new normal. Everything else could wait at the backs of their minds.

 

 

///

 

“I like that colour Mum,” Malia said enthusiastically from her position cross legged atop the bed behind her younger sister as she brushed through and occasionally towel dried the ends of still damp and dripping hair. “Really pretty.”

 

 

“Thanks honey.” Breaking extremely focused concentration, Michelle looked up and smiled. “I'll do yours when I'm finished if you want.”

 

 

“Sure.” A thumbs up was flashed to show extra approval. “There you go, Sash. All your knots are out. Your hair's not dripping any more.”

 

 

“Thanks, you're the best.” Fifteen and fully capable of brushing her own hair, Sasha rarely delegated the task to anyone else but secretly preferred when other people did it, most namely Malia or her mother. Malia was the gentler of the two in her ministrations, so she was quicker to take up the offer from her.

 

 

“Nice to hear you finally admit it,” Malia laughed, tongue sticking through teeth as she raised up off the bed and made her way to the chair her mother had just vacated to have her nails painted an exquisite shade of red.

 

 

“How was swimming?” Patriarch of the family having retreated into the en suite to take a shower had not witnessed his daughters' return. He buttoned a light cotton shirt as he stepped away from the door jamb, all three women catching a whiff of familiar cologne as it hung in the air.

 

 

“Good. People are really nice here,” Sasha answered.

 

 

“They are, aren't they?” He smiled. “Honey why don't you come walking with Daddy and we'll leave these two to their own devices for a while?”

 

 

“Okay,” she conceded brightly, nodding. Time with her father was still one of her favourite things. As much as both girls were gaining independence and had their own friends, they were both still very close to their parents – something each parent hoped would endure.

 

 

///

 

“Are you excited to start school?” Toenails had dried, and they'd moved on to fingers. Michelle had brought up her eldest's looming departure for Harvard many times, wanted to hear her child's fears, thoughts, and feelings as much as she wanted to remain quiet and revel in the gap year she was taking.

 

 

“Of course, but I'm nervous too. I think that'll intensify as it gets closer.”

 

 

“Probably,” her mother smiled, blowing breath lightly over slender fingers whose nails she'd just coated with paint. “If we've raised you as well as we like to believe, you'll be all right.”

 

 

“You and Dad might not,” Malia laughed dryly. “Are y'all going to cry?”

 

 

“I don't know about Dad, but I can assure you with total certainty that I will be a mess.”

 

 

“Aw, Mummy,” she giggled. “First birdie leaving the nest and you can't handle it.” Her eyes sparkled, and her mother laughed along with her.

 

 

“You'll understand one day, when you make me a grandma and finally have your own.”

 

 

“God, you're getting a little ahead of yourself there. That won't be for a while yet, if ever.”

 

 

“I would hope not,” Michelle said sternly, eyeing her over the bottle of polish as she recapped it.

 

 

///

 

 

“It's weird, seeing you as just my Dad and not the President,” Sasha mused as she and Barack walked hand in hand along the beach, sand warm and white wedging itself between their toes as an agent in plain-clothes walked paces ahead of them. “I don't have too much memory of when you weren't.”

 

 

Stilling his steps, he half turned and locked gazes with his youngest child. “You don't think it affected you negatively, do you?” He'd told himself over and over again that it wouldn't, he'd be sure it didn't. He'd attempted to set examples he believed were ones someone would be proud to have been guided by, but he wanted to hear it from her mouth.

 

 

“No,” she smiled lightly. “It just was what it was.” She shrugged, and they kept walking. “We lived where we had to because you had a job to do and learned from what we were taught. You and Mum did the best you could, and that was pretty good.”

 

 

“You've no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” he told her, watching as she stopped to pick up a uniquely coloured rock that had washed up onto the shore.

 

 

“You think Mum would like this?” she asked him, holding it up to the sunlight and squinting as she watched it shimmer.

 

 

“She'll love it,” he affirmed, smiling widely as she tucked it into a back pocket of her shorts.

 

 

“Are you getting sad yet about Malia leaving for school?” Walking alongside, she let her hand dangle instead of reconnecting it with one of her father's.

 

 

“Not quite,” he responded honestly. “I think about it quite often, but it's not close enough yet to feel real or to be sad. Your mother gets a little weepy about it from time to time, but so far I've tried to be the strong one.”

 

 

“Awwwww,” Sasha cooed. “That's cute.”

 

 

“Are you going to miss her?”

 

 

She was quiet for a minute. “Yeah. I mean, we love each other just as much as we fight and she's still my sister.” He nodded wordlessly. “It'll be weird, but she'll be back, and it'll probably bring us closer.”

 

 

“You're a pretty wise young thing, you know that?” he praised, squeezing her shoulder and pulling her into him as they turned and walked back opposite to the way they'd come.

 

 

“Well, I do have a former President for a Dad,” she laughed, and a guffaw escaped him, too.

 

 

It was strange to him, hearing the word former precede the title of President. As much as he'd loved serving his country and acting for the people, he hoped now those strings weren't attached him any longer, that he'd be brought ever closer to his beautifully maturing children, too.

 


End file.
